


Pretty Cool

by sabinelagrande



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bathing/Washing, Bottom Clint Barton, Co-Topping, Dom/sub, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Face-Fucking, Femdom, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Shower Sex, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Switch Phil Coulson, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Kate Bishop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's sort of on loan, but that's good enough for Kate. Maybe she'll borrow Clint too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kate likes Phil.

Clint didn't introduce them for the longest time, certain for some completely imaginary reason that they weren't going to like each other- or maybe that they were going to like each other too much and gang up on him, also likely. But Kate likes him. He's kinda boring, but he's also kinda soothing, in a weird way. He's also kinda Clint's, but Clint's not great at monogamy- at least now he has somebody who he actually said that to in advance. Clint's not as weird as she expected about her borrowing Phil, all things considered. Then again, if he knew what she and Phil did, probably he would be a little weirder about it.

They're in the shower, chosen because it's the end of the day and it's a bajillion degrees out, and the three things she's been thinking about today are, in order, new arrows, a long time spent in a cool shower, and fucking Phil.

There aren't any arrows in the shower. Just to clear that up.

She has her hand between Phil's shoulder blades, holding him against the slick tile wall, but she's not forcing him to do this. She asks him and he just _does it_ , and that is so cool. She might be holding him down, but he's the one who's not trying to get free. He wants this just as much as she does, for her to take over. He could probably kill her with his pinkie, but for now he's going to let down his guard, let her just _have_ him.

 _So_ cool.

The water beats down on them, plastering Phil's short, thin hair to his head at funny angles, which is oddly sweet. The steady flow keeps washing off the lube as she works her fingers in and out of him, opening him up. She keeps adding more, trying to make it good, but he must have like half a bottle up there by now. It's definitely time to be moving on with the festivities.

"Hold yourself open," she says impulsively; it's such a thing-from-porn move, but Phil reaches back and does it, and Kate understands exactly why they decided to put it in porn in the first place. She adds just a little more lube to the head of her strap-on, then she starts to push slowly, gradually inside of him. Phil makes an awesome noise, putting his forehead against the tile; she can see him start to push back, the moment he makes himself stop, makes himself be _good_ for her. That's so hot, that little moment of impulse making his obedience that much better.

She pushes until she bottoms out, the base of her cock flush with his ass. She leans in and bites his neck, just below the neat, precise line of his haircut, just above the dog tags that he never takes off, just where he likes it. She has to lean up a little to do it, and she can feel the way the toy shifts ever so slightly inside of him; all it makes her want is to do it again, tease him like that, not give him enough to get anything until she's good and ready for him to have it.

"Does that feel good?" she says against the wet, warm skin of his neck, before she bites him again.

"Yes, Kate," he groans, as she moves her hips, pushing in hard and deep. She loves the way her name sounds on his tongue- not so much when he's bawling her out, but at times like this, where she doesn't hear anything but submission, this thing that he gives her when they're all alone.

The noises he makes are amazing, incredible; she keeps fucking him harder just to hear more, the inarticulate mess of half-words that fall out of his mouth, stuff that might be profane and might be her name and might be nothing at all, just sound for the sake of sound. She doesn't care, not the least bit. She grabs his hands, slapping the palms against the wall on either side of his head and holding them there. She reaches down just long enough to flick on the vibrator at the base of her strap-on, biting her lip to keep from moaning at the jolt of pleasure from it. She puts her palm back over his hand, lacing her fingers through his from behind, and now she's really got him trapped. He can't get away now, and she knows that he isn't even thinking about it.

"Please," he says, and she almost doesn't hear it over the sound of the shower.

"Say it louder," she says, grabbing a handful of his wet hair and pulling his head back.

"Please," he says again, just as clear and steady as if there were nothing going on at all; it's the knife-edge of desperation behind it that Kate wants, the one that's more than good enough for her. "Please, Kate."

"You're begging really early," she says, fucking him faster.

"I know," he says, and she has to laugh. "But please."

"Beg me, and I'll think about it," she says.

"Please," he says again. "Please, Kate, I can't stand it, please." His words are low and rough; he's having trouble being articulate, and that's so awesome, that she can make him do that. She doesn't know what's getting her off more, the feel of the toy or the feel of his body or the knowledge that she's doing this to him, but it doesn't matter, it is so completely irrelevant. 

She squeezes his hands hard when she comes, shutting her eyes. She lays her cheek against his back, panting a little as she gets it together. "Kate, please," he's saying, and his voice is almost a whine now, not that he'd ever admit to anything like that. She can feel the strain in his muscles as he keeps from moving, keeps from taking what he wants. "Please, Kate, I can't-"

He makes a distraught sound when she pulls out, rinsing her toy in the shower spray and turning the vibrator off before setting it aside on the edge of the tub. "Wow, you thought this was going to be really easy, didn't you?" she says.

"Yes," he says, through clenched teeth.

She turns him around, kissing him long and slow, and despite how tense he is he melts for her, letting her control it entirely. She realizes quickly that he's doing the awkward seventh grade dance boner thing, his hips turned away from hers so that she doesn't brush up against his cock. She thinks about it for a second, about how easy it would be to put her back against the wall and take it, let him just slip inside of her. She's so wet that it wouldn't be any trouble at all, just a smooth slide and a nice hard fuck.

She has An Agenda though. Besides, that would be letting him off way too easy.

She stands back from him, standing as imperiously as she can without feeling or looking ridiculous- which is only a little imperiously- in the middle of the shower. "Wash me," she says, and Phil does a good job of not looking dismayed, but not a perfect one. He doesn't hesitate, though. He picks up the shampoo first, and she obligingly turns around, letting him work her hair into a lather. She lets out a little moan at the feeling of his fingertips massaging her scalp; he spends more time than is strictly necessary doing it, and she doesn't complain about it at all.

Finally he takes his hand away, and she washes out the suds herself. The conditioner is next; she's not sure whether letting it soak in is good or bad for her hair, but it feels nice and soft, so whatever. She turns around, facing him again. He still looks hungry, needy, greedy, but he's calmed down at least a little bit. She points at the soap, and he picks it up. She's about to point out her bath puff, but he lathers it between his hands instead, and that is _such_ a good idea.

He surprises her again by gently taking her by the elbow, turning her back around so that he can step in close behind her- he is just full of good ideas today. He smooths his hands down her chest, skirting around the outsides of her breasts to gently wash her stomach.

"Wasting your time," she tells him.

"You said 'wash', Kate," he says.

"Put your hands on my breasts," she says impatiently. "Don't act like you don't know what to do with them when you get there."

He pulls her back a little, and now his hard cock is pressed up against her ass, insistent and ready for her. She's not interested in dwelling on that at the moment, though, because now he's doing as she said, weighing her breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. He spreads his fingers, massaging her, and she lets her head fall back against his shoulder, lets him do this for her. He rolls a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, pulling gently, just how she wants it. It's plenty hot, but she could almost fall asleep like this, might except for the thrum going through her, the one that feels like electricity.

"Lower," she murmurs, and he briefly picks up the soap, lathering it up his hands and putting it back before reaching down to cup her mound. She spreads her legs slightly as he washes her, paying attention to the curls covering her before he parts her with his fingers, finding her clit with two fingers and stroking her gently.

She has this grand plan and everything, but suddenly she just has to rush it along a little. She breaks away from Phil, considerately stopping to wash the soap between her legs away before she turns and pushes him to his knees. She pulls him forward, and he doesn't hesitate, pushing his fingers inside of her while he licks her, fucking her with them while he drives her crazy with his mouth. She braces her hands against the tile wall, not sure she won't give out if he keeps doing this- and she has no intention of stopping him.

He's pushing her closer and closer; it's creeping up on her, little by little, and when it gets there all she can do is pound the shower surround with her fist, though she's not sure why. "Shit," she hisses, and she can feel Phil start to pull away. She grabs him by his hair and puts him right back where he belongs, and he doesn't stop this time, slowing a little to let her catch her breath but then continuing right on. His jaw must be sore by now, and she doesn't give a fuck. 

He knew the risks when he took this job.

She comes again, grinding herself against his face, and she knows that's it, she's down for the count. Her legs are shaky, like she's going to give out at any second, and there's a good chance she might. It takes her a minute to get back together, to figure out what her name is again, to remember there's this guy in the shower with her who she should really probably take care of.

"Kate, please," Phil says, in a low, urgent voice. He looks so good like that, looking up at her with that pleading desperation in his eyes, that she almost keeps him there, makes him wait a few more minutes while she comes up with something else to do with him.

She pulls him up though, taking him by the chin and kissing him hard. "What do you want?"

"I don't care," he says breathlessly. "I really don't care, Kate, just let me."

"Let you what?" she says sweetly, wrapping her hand around his dick and stroking him slowly.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Phil hisses. "Please let me come, Kate."

"Do you deserve it?" she asks.

"I sure fucking hope so," he pants.

She moves her hand faster. "Then come for me."

The noise he makes when he comes is so gratifying, so loud, so _good_ it almost makes her tremble. He paints his stomach with it, hot and white, and before the shower can wash it away, Kate swipes her fingers through it and presses them into his mouth, making him taste himself, making him _know_ exactly what he's just done.

She's completely exhausted, and she's pretty sure Phil is the same way, judging by the slightly ragged look on his face. She kisses him once before she cuts the shower off, reaching to pull the shower curtain back. "Shit, conditioner," she says, turning the shower back on and quickly rinsing her hair. Phil gives her his usual amused smirk, and she just rolls her eyes, grabbing her towel. 

They finally come out of the bathroom, still dressed in just towels and dopey post-sex expressions, and Clint is waiting for the two of them, his arms crossed over his chest.

He looks _livid_.

"Don't fuck in my shower," Clint says, pushing between and past the two of them, and Kate frowns, worried. She always knew it was kind of tenuous, this whole thing, but Clint said he was okay with it, and she didn't really want to argue, for several reasons.

Clint slams the bathroom door shut. "I have had to pee for the last fucking hour," he says. "The least you could do is leave the goddamn door unlocked."

Kate looks at Phil, and Phil just shakes his head.

Maybe it's going to be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

"Did I do something bad last night?" Clint asks nonchalantly, as he takes the pot out of the coffee maker and takes a drink.

Kate gives him a look. "You'd know better than me."

"I woke up with handcuffs in my bed," he says. "Usually that means I didn't have a good night."

"They're mine," Kate says, after a pause. She's not going to lose a perfectly good pair of handcuffs because of a slightly uncomfortable situation.

Clint pauses, the coffee pot halfway to his mouth. "Why are your handcuffs in my bed?"

"Um," she says, toeing the ground under the table. "Phil came home early yesterday, and-" She lets it die there, because there's nothing else she can really say that won't be _really_ uncomfortable.

"Oh," Clint says.

There's a long silence. "That's all you have to say?" Kate says, incredulous.

"I-" Clint shrugs. "I just didn't know he bottomed."

Kate frowns. "Wait, what?"

"I mean, no offense, but I can't see you bottoming," Clint says.

She narrows her eyes. "I could bottom. I could be a great bottom."

"Do you want to?" he asks.

She shifts. "Well, no-"

"See?" Clint says.

"Back up," Kate says, holding up a hand. "We were talking about Phil. Why are you surprised that Phil bottoms?"

Clint colors slightly. "Don't make me spell it out for you, Hawkeye."

"Oh," she says, startled. " _Oh._ "

"Yeah," Clint says.

"That's," Kate starts. "Something."

"Yep," Clint says, picking up his pot of coffee and drinking it quickly, a classic Clint avoidance technique. Kate takes a bite of her cereal, chewing it contemplatively as she looks anywhere but Clint's face.

She and Clint don't talk about it again.

"Would you let me?" Kate asks, as she pins Phil to the bed by his shoulders, holding him down hard. She has his cock all the way inside of her, her hips moving ever so slowly, her eyes glued to the sweat rolling off him, the desperation in his eyes.

"I'd let you do anything you want right now, Kate," he says earnestly.

"Would you let me play with Clint?" she asks, and he bites his lip, thrusting up into her just once, helpless to stop it.

"I don't think this is the time to have that discussion, Kate," he says, very carefully.

"Is it because you're going to come everywhere if I make you talk about it?" she asks, sitting back and starting to ride him.

"It's not unlikely," he tells her, keeping perfectly still even when she lets him go.

"Maybe I want to discuss it," she says. "Maybe I want to play with him. Maybe I want to sit back and watch _you_ play with him. Does that sound good?"

"Jesus Christ," Phil says. "Yes, Kate," he adds hurriedly, though it sounds like it's uncomfortable to say it.

"Then I'm gonna," she tells him, taking his hand and leading it to her clit, and he automatically starts to rub her. She shuts her eyes, tipping her head back as she moves up and down on him, taking him as deep as she can. She can see it a little when she thinks about it, but she knows it's not nearly as good as what the reality will be like. "I'm gonna tell you every little thing to do to him, and you're gonna do it, just because I said so. Aren't you?"

"Yes," he says, through his teeth. "Kate, please, don't do this to me."

"Do what?" she asks. She's teasing him, anticipating the answer, but there's a little streak of real fear underneath it, the fear that she's gone too far, invaded on territory where she doesn't belong.

"Don't talk to me like this," he says. "It's not fair, Kate."

"Why isn't it fair?" she says, moving on him faster; even though she's worried, she's getting very close.

"You're making it too hard for me not to come," he protests, and Kate breathes a sigh of relief.

"You can come after you make me," she tells him. "So get on with it."

It isn't the last time she and Phil talk about it. If that was the last time, it wouldn't really mean anything; stuff you say during sex is usually pretty much just nonsense, and definitely non-binding. But later, she and Phil sit down and have an adult conversation about it- reasonably adult, anyway, because it gets _really_ adult towards the end there, when they're too keyed up by the idea to keep their hands off each other anymore.

But they talk and talk and they work things out, and then finally they're in Clint and Phil's bedroom, Phil standing behind Clint like he's presenting him to her.

"Get him undressed," Kate says, sitting back in her chair, kicking her feet up on the ottoman. "Nice and slow."

Phil doesn't even say anything; he gives Clint a hard look, and Clint's hands just start moving. He starts with his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it away; he looks good, as always, well muscled without being over-defined, just right. Phil narrows his eyes, and Clint swallows, nodding. Phil has some kind of wordless sex magic thing, and Kate wishes she knew how to do it- or maybe not, because she wouldn't get the pleasure of hearing the words, of being turned on and scandalized in equal measure by the things that come out of her own mouth.

Clint slows, popping the button of his fly with a flick of his wrist before he slowly drags his zipper down. He's showy, now, skimming the fabric of his jeans down over his hips. He lets the material fall around his ankles, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them away. He's wearing boxer shorts with purple and brown arrows on them, because he is at heart a little shit. He looks to Phil before pushing them down, and Phil nods.

She's never actually seen his cock before; she's seen a lot of him hurriedly covering it with his hands when she accidentally walks in on him, but she's never seen it on purpose, not the whole thing. It's impressively long, and he's so hard that she can see precome shining wetly at the tip, threatening to drip down.

"Good initiative," she says, nodding to the ring around his cock.

"He gets excited," Phil tells her. His voice is darker than she's ever heard it in bed, firm, in a way that makes her admire him, turns her on without making her want it directed at her. "I don't like him getting ideas."

"Turn him around," she says, twirling her finger. "I want to see the whole thing."

Phil looks at Clint, and Clint dutifully turns. She's expecting him to be a little bit of a smartass about it, spin around or something, but he moves gracefully, presenting himself for her approval. She _has_ seen his ass before, but she wasn't exactly looking at it in this context, especially not with Phil's hand on it, smoothing over the curve before he pulls back and smacks him, leaving a little pink behind. Clint rocks forward, and Phil stops him, a hand on his chest.

"Very nice," Kate says, crossing her legs, mostly so she can press her thighs together, relieve some of the tension that's building. She already wants to slip her hand between them, but good orgasms come to those who wait. 

Kate looks at the two of them, and she realizes she can do absolutely anything she wants. She can choose any number of torments, she can make them fuck each other until they're raw and sore- she can even leave if she wants, give both of them nothing at all.

But that would be _so_ boring.

"Put him over your knee and spank him," Kate orders. Fortune favors the brave, and she doesn't see much point in fooling around. Phil is a man after her own heart; he sits down at the edge of the bed and pulls Clint to him by his wrist. Clint doesn't really fit in his lap, because he's a grown-ass man and everything, so he's kind of on Phil and kind of on the bed and kind of on the floor. That makes it better though, somehow, a little humiliating in a hot way, especially since Phil is still dressed, the dark fabric of his slacks contrasting with Clint's naked body.

The first slap of Phil's hand against Clint's skin rings out, and Clint bites back a cry. He puts his head against the bed as Phil hits him again and again. Phil's harsh, not giving him any rest, no time to even take a breath. He just keeps slapping him, open palmed, until Clint's skin is coloring nicely, an even, rosy pink.

"Do it harder," Kate says, though it comes out in a murmur. "Show me how much he can take."

She almost laughs when Phil takes his hand away, clenching and unclenching his fingers to pop them, rolling his wrist back and forth. She knows that Clint's in for it; Phil doesn't disappoint her, hitting Clint hard enough that he yells. She thought it was bad before, but now Phil is really waling on him. She thinks she hears Clint crying, completely overwhelmed. She really wants to touch herself now; her panties are clinging to the wetness between her legs, but she still holds out. They're nowhere near done, and it just won't be as good as waiting.

Phil smacks him harder and harder, until Kate's kind of amazed that his hand can take it. But gradually he stops, running his hand over Clint's red, bruised skin, murmuring something to him. Kate starts to protest, because she didn't tell Phil to let up. Then she realizes quickly that she's stuck with a decision- let Phil get away with not following her orders or risk making Phil harm Clint by second-guessing Phil's decision to stop.

She's committed to being Miss Toppy Top and everything, but the choice is kinda simple.

"Let him go," she says, after letting them have a few moments together. "I want to see him suck you off."

"Knees," Phil says, voice hard, and Clint obeys, though it's awkward to get off of Phil and the bed. He kneels between Phil's feet and waits, sitting back on his heels even though the contact makes him hiss. "That's a good boy," Phil says, running his hand through Clint's hair. "You're doing so well." Clint leans into his hand, and she can see how he soaks it up, wants to hear it so badly. She thought it would surprise her, Clint wanting to do this, but it doesn't, not at all, not with how well she knows him. Clint spends a lot of his time being an asshole, but what he really wants to be is good.

She watches in profile as Phil lets him go, opening his own fly and taking his cock out. He sighs when he finally gets his hand around it, stroking it a few times before he pulls Clint forward. Clint opens his mouth, but Phil doesn't take it at first, running the head of his cock over Clint's cheeks and lips first, smearing precome over them. It should be a little degrading- and it is- but it's so hot, the way he does it, the way Clint lets him do it without a single complaint.

Finally he puts his cock into Clint's mouth; Clint doesn't close it, letting Phil slide in and out freely, fuck his face for a moment. "Suck it," he says finally, wrapping his hand around the back of Clint's neck and holding onto him. Clint looks up at him as he sucks, and even from her vantage point, Kate can see the raw trust in his eyes.

"Such a good boy," Phil says, moving Clint back and forth on his cock quickly. "You're being so good for her. You should see how happy she is, Clint."

"The happiest," Kate says genuinely, and Clint makes a noise, shutting his eyes tight. "You're the best." Clint moves his head, speeding up, and Kate knows somehow that he's trying to block them out, trying not to believe it. "You're _good_ , Clint Barton, and if you don't start believing me I'm going to have Phil kick your ass." Clint makes an amused noise, and she can see some of the tension ease out of his shoulders.

"That's it," Phil says, stroking Clint's neck with his thumb as he moves him faster, pushing deeper into Clint's throat; Clint's taking it down like a pro, and for a moment she's wrapped up in watching Phil's dick as it moves in and out of Clint's mouth. "Just let go for me, Clint. Just take it."

Clint's getting more and more relaxed, just giving up and letting Phil fuck his mouth, take him how he wants. Phil wants it hard, his cock pushing all the way inside of Clint's mouth, and now she really can't handle it, Clint's lips around Phil's cock, the way Clint is giving it up. She reaches down and touches herself through the fabric of her skirt, just firm, solid pressure against her clit, just a little to tide her over. She wants to keep watching this, to keep seeing them together, but she's getting to the point where she can't stand it anymore.

"More," she says urgently. "Come on, Phil, do it, come down his throat, come for me."

Phil curses, his grip going tighter on Clint's neck. Clint's cheeks hollow as he sucks harder, driving Phil towards the edge. Phil thrusts in erratically, until finally he yanks Clint forward and holds him still; Kate can hear Clint choke, but he doesn't move, just sits there and takes it, swallows it down obediently. Phil lets him go, petting his hair as Clint coughs, rubbing his throat a little, but Phil doesn't apologize.

"Come here, Clint," Kate says, motioning with her finger. She was hesitant about this part when they talked about it, about doing anything with Clint and risking a catastrophe, about touching Phil's things, but right now it seems natural as anything. Clint crawls over, kneeling in front of her, and she pulls him up into her lap, making him straddle her. He's a lot bigger than she is, so it's a little awkward, but she kisses him anyway, pulling him down to meet her. She never thought much about kissing Clint, but it's nice; he's a good kisser, his kisses firm and strong, even if his mouth does taste like come.

She slides her hand in between them; Clint breaks away from her mouth when she wraps her hand around his dick, stroking him, but she grabs him by the hair, keeping him right where he is, kissing him again. "I'm gonna take this, and you're gonna let me," she says. "Aren't you, Clint? Aren't you gonna be good for me?"

"Yes," he groans. "Yes, _please_."

"Such a good Clint," she says, pecking him on the lips. She pushes him backwards, and he takes the hint, sitting on the ottoman. He leans back, settling on his elbows, waiting for her, waiting to let her, and god he looks good like that, so willing and ready and needy. There's a condom in the pocket of her skirt, and she hands it to him, getting rid of her panties as he rolls it on. She doesn't waste time taking off her clothes, just bunches her skirt up and climbs onto him.

There's a lot of him to take, and she savors every last bit of it, the slow slide down his cock until she's got him where she wants him, pressing in deep and hard and _so_ good. She's a little too keyed up to do anything but ride him hard, moving up and down on him quickly. 

"So good," she finds herself saying. "Such a good boy, Clint, you're so good for us, such a good boy- tell me, Clint, tell me what you are."

"Yours," Clint says, not the answer she was expecting, but fuck if it doesn't sound amazing. "Your good boy."

"That's right," she says. "That's right, Clint, right there-" She winds her hips, making him hit exactly the right spot, and she comes, shaking, shutting her eyes tight and seeing stars, which she didn't think was a thing people actually did.

She slows down, riding out the aftershocks as they come over her one by one. Then she's finished, wrecked, starting to feel a little unsexy with wetness coating her thighs and sweat drying on her skin. She looks down at Clint, smiling, but then she remembers that she's left him kind of a massive mess. He's breathing heavily through his nose, his bottom lip between his teeth, and he looks miserable.

"I didn't forget you, good boy," she says, stroking the side of his face, even though that's half a lie. She kind of wants to leave him like this, for the sheer mischief of it, but he's good and he's been good for her, so good, and that would just be wrong. Kate looks down at where they're joined. "Do I have to move for you to take the ring off?"

Clint shifts underneath her. "It has a snap, hold on-" There's some awkward fumbling in weird places for a minute, and then Clint sighs, tossing the ring away. "God, that's so much better."

Kate grinds down hard on him. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Clint groans. "Kate, please, _please_ , I'll never ask you for anything again-"

She moves her hips, lifting up and pushing down on him, a steady rhythm. "That's a lie."

"If that's what it takes, I'll try," Clint promises.

"You don't have to," Kate says, fucking him harder, taking him deep. "You just have to be good for me and Phil." She pushes him down by his shoulders, bracing herself as she takes him hard and fast.

"I can't hold out," Clint says desperately. "Please, Kate-"

"You can wait just a tiny bit longer," Kate tells him, reaching under her skirt and rubbing her clit. "Come on, you can do it for me."

He tosses his head. "Can't."

" _Will_ ," Kate says, holding him down firmly, and Clint shuts his eyes. She's so close too, the feeling on her again, but she doesn't have anybody to make her wait but herself, and that game gets old after a while. "Do it with me, Clint." She moves faster, bouncing on him, reveling in the feeling of his cock filling her up. "I'm close, just a second longer-"

"Kate," he groans.

"Say it again," she says, pushing down on him hard.

" _Kate_ ," he says, more behind it than she's ever heard, colors of it that have never been there before, and she comes hard, her head falling back.

"Now," she says. "Now now now, Clint, _now_."

He grabs her by the hip, holding her against him, and she feels him pulse inside of her, coming hard. Her hand clenches on his skin, her fingertips digging in, and they've never been closer than in this moment, more connected, even after so long of being connected in every other way.

They stay like that for the longest time, forever and for mere moments, their fingers intertwined, just looking at each other, letting the connection between them settle. Eventually, though, Clint pushes himself up, looking around her. "Hey," Clint says, voice fuzzy, and Kate looks back; at some point, Phil slipped over and sat down in the chair, the very best seat in the house. 

"Towel?" Phil says, holding one up.

"You're a smart-ass," Kate says as she gets up. She sits down sideways in his lap, kissing him deeply. She's kind of sticky everywhere from one knee to the other and she'd really like that towel, but cuddling is more important. Clint gets rid of the condom and slides to his knees in front of them, like that's just where he goes, the place he should be. Kate cards her hand through Clint's hair; they're like some weird scene of domesticity, only with a naked guy instead of a dog.

Whatever. It works.

Kate buries her face in Phil's neck, nuzzling him; he smells good, like cologne and sweat, and she could really just fall asleep like this, with the two of them around her, keeping her safe. "Good boys," she says, reaching out blindly and patting Clint's head, and she feels Phil's laugh.

Kate likes them. She's going to keep them around for a while.


End file.
